Stronger Passion

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 653, 3 May 1929, Page 5

Stronger Passion

By

Rowan Glen.

CHAPTER XlX.—(Continued.) It was only when he had reached the mountain's crest and recalled that 'lay when, near to it, he and Elaine l»d been lost in the mist, and he became fully conscious of the fact 'bat he had parted with the girl *bom he loved and who was, in his e?es, the most desirable possession ’ebich life had to offer. All the way down the hill he tursed himself for his blindness in having, in the beginning, played wit it Ibis love; for having credited himself with a strength which had not been his.

You might have known, you fool!" he said aloud. “You might have known that you couldn't withhand her. You might have known ‘bat love was a stronger thing than bate."

Almost he decided to seek her out " oce nore and to plead his cause, at re ason helped him to steadiness and reason, in turn, was hE >Ped by pride. Yired out he reached the cottage. er e Mac Lean. the shepherd, lived lib his wife, and accepted readily b°ugh the latter’s offer of tea. ®°ht keep you more thau a minshe said. “The kettle's on the tin Andrew's gone down to Doehbeto me bbe, he won't be hack C/° U leave - He’s seekin - the

he In 6 doc, °r'.”' Macßae repeated. “Is Or is it you?" "Xo down to s tir the fire. "It's S^e answ ered, quite firmly. kaowi°^ r lodper You won't be sentlp 11 ll ’ Mr ' blacßne, but a young '•be d mQn came here from Edinburgh at 0 , 0 a ' a f° r e yesterday, a wee while ling o >OU came io- He was scramb®i, Se ? ane 0 them crag-faces aud he for hi “ ls f°°ting and fell. Lucky time a H my man Was nearb >’ at the Andrew 0 . ®* rr * e d him home. Y'see, Ita n'p ».* b'R and the young gontleN now" aud lisht ' He's up in his 00,1 tpord: ’ Macßae exclaimed.

Author of " The Great Anvil, The Best Gift of All," For Love or for Gold," &c . &c

"You don't seem much put about, Mrs. MacLean.’’ “I’m not,” she answered laconically. “You get used to queer things iu this life. . . . There’s nothing broken, I think. He’s just bruised a bit, only Andrew's that nervous that nothing would please him but he must set off at once. He exaggerates, too, as you’d be sayin’. He'll be telling the doctor, likely, that the lodger’s dying. That’s Andrew's way. Would you like to see him, sir?—the lodger, I mean." “Of course,’* Macßae said. “I’ll go up now if you'll take me.” Still placid, she did that, aud ten minutes later Macßae, satisfied that the youth in the tiny bedroom upstairs was not seriously hurt, was seated at the kitchen table drinking tea and eating freshly-made scones. The simple meal over, be was lighting a pipe when, less calm thau before, Mrs. Mac Lean, who had been outside, came to him. "Mere's something more to upset j us,” she began. “There’s a young j leddy out in the garden yonder halfdaft, because the lodger’s been burr. It seems that she'd met someone who'd met Andrew, and she’d heard about the accident.” “Who is she?” Macßae asked. "I don’t know, sir. Y'see, I’m gey seldom iu the village. She’s bonnie, though, and going on that way, you’d think the lodger upstairs was her lad. 1 just left her talking. I said t’o send someone out to her. You’ll understand her speech better than I can.” "A friend of your lodger's?” Mae Rae went on, as he rose. “Must be! Anyway, she says she's come to see the gentleman who's been hurt. But I wasn't going to let her iu till you'd had a word with her. She's j standing down yonder by the rowan tree. . . .” So soon as Macßae saw the slender figure leaning against the tree trunk, he recognised it, aud there came a violent hammering in his brain. He was by her side almost before|

she had heard his feet oil the hard path. “Elaine!” he called softly. “Elaine!" She lifted her head and, turning swiftly, looked at him. Her wet eyes held a great anxiety—and another emotion transcending that. For a moment she stared at him Then a trembling hand went to her mouth. Siie swayed and would have stumbled had he not caught at her. “Elaine!” he repeated. “What is it ? Mrs. Mac Lean back yonder says that you heard about the accideut to her lodger.” “Her lodger?” Elaiue articulated. “But—l thought it was you, Blair. 1 knew you were t.o be here about teatime. You said you would be. But when our chauffeur told me that he'd met the shepherd and that he was going for a doctor because a gentleman was lying badly hurt in his cottage, I was certain it must be j'ou.” “And so you came up to see what was wrong? Is that it?” She nodded, but did not look at him. "Yes,” she whispered. “I cycled as

far as I could. Then I left the cycle and walked on. Oh, I ” He held her closer still. “There’s a young fellow in the cottage,” he said, “who’s lodging with the shepherd and his wife. He fell down a crag and bruised himself rather badly, but he’ll be all right iu a few days. Elaine! . . . You cared as much as that?” “Yes!” He could scarcely hear her now. “I never thought to let*you know, Blair. I’ve gone through—agony. I told you 1 couldn’t trust you, aud you told me that you’d need some real proof that I loved you before you’d marry me. I don’t know how to give you that proof.” “You’ve given it to me," he said. “Thank God! Elaine. You've given it to me now. I can’t believe it yet. It’s too big for belief. But there’s something more. You. said ;hat you couldn’t love a man unless you trusted him to the full, and —you don’t trust me. I’m not blaming you for that, my dear. I cheated you before I knew that I loved you. How can 1 make you trust me.” “I trust you now,” she said, and, lifting her head slowly, met his eyes. “I loved you from the beginning, dear. I suppose it was fated that l should. I And —I know that you love me.” i “With all my heart and soul,” he 1 answered. “With every bit of strength j that’s in me. . . . Elaiue!” “Yes?” ! ITe did not speak. I Instead, he lowered his head and : kissed her ou the lips. When they came within sight of Arnavrach they paused and stood, hands linked like the humblest of lovers, gazing toward the house which for a small part of every year at least would be ..heir home. “We mayn’t see very much of it till we’re old,” Macßae said. “You’re right, you know. I’ve got to get back to work. But before I settle down to that again, it’s to be Italy for you aud me. I wonder what Pringle’ll say when I tell him that things are to be held up for a month or so. and that, though I’ll still take him with me, I’ll I be bringing a wife as well ?” Elaine’s eyes were glowing. She started forward joyously, pulling him ■if ter her. “Hurry, Blair!” she begged. “Hurry! want to get down to tell father.” When they reached the gates of The Lodge the splendour of the sky behind Ben Alsh gave promise of a golden day to come. (The End.)